Uncle
by SherlockianWhovian
Summary: Someone's got to stay at home and watch Rosie, Mycroft didn't expect it to be him.
1. Chapter 1

"Must we always play these childish games? Is it really beyond you to have a serious adult conversation?" Mycroft asked in his usual droning voice.

"John won't play Cluedo with me." Sherlock replied and resisted the urge to finish the statement with a pout.

"So I must take his place?" Mycroft sighed, "You know very well why I won't play Cluedo with you. The game is flawed."

"John insisted that the victim couldn't have done it. He said that's not how the game works." Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.

"A victim is not always innocent. All theories are to be considered in a murder investigation." Mycroft agreed with a nod, "They really should have updated the rules in the game by now, especially after you sent them that letter."

"Three letters." Sherlock murmured under his breath.

"Your move." Mycroft announced after he'd moved his counter (the top hat, naturally) into the Free Parking square on the Monopoly board.

Sherlock leaned forward and rolled the dice, before they were interrupted by John's arrival.

"Sherlock, I've got milk! God knows how you get through it so fast but you never actually have any in the fridge when I get here..." John called as he climbed the stairs.

"Tesco Express." Sherlock said to Mycroft, sitting back in his chair and moving his hands into their usual prayer position.

"No, brother dear. Sainsbury's Local." Mycroft replied with a smug smile.

John entered the living room with an orange Sainsbury's bag in one hand and a sleeping Rosie strapped to his chest.

"Go on then." Sherlock sighed, his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Sorry?" John asked, looking at them both and then at the board game between them.

"It's obvious that John went to Sainsbury's Local by his gait on the stairs. Sainsbury's offer significantly stronger bags for life, therefore reducing the amount of strength required to carry it up a flight of stairs. The slight rustle of the bag is also much quieter than that of the lower quality Tesco bags." Mycroft explained without even looking at John.

"Okay... I'll just put the milk away." John sighed, walking into the kitchen and lifting the milk out of the bag.

"You rolled a six, Sherlock. Move or forfeit." Mycroft said, leaning forward slightly. Despite the childish nature of Monopoly, it was clear that Mycroft was determined to win the game.

Sherlock sighed and moved his counter (the dog) onto the Mayfair square.

"Rent please." Mycroft declared smugly, holding his hand out.

Sherlock counted the Monopoly money as slowly as possible before he handed it over.

"Tea." John announced, carrying in a tray of cups of tea and a plate of Hobnobs.

"Very kind of you, John." Mycroft said, accepting his usual cup but avoiding the biscuits.

"No problem. I'll just grab Rosie." John replied, heading back into the kitchen and returning with his now awake daughter.

The two Holmes brothers turned to face John and fixed him and Rosie with a stare.

"What?" John demanded, frustration clear in his voice.

"Are you going to...put her...down somewhere?" Mycroft asked, clearly unsure of the proper social convention when it came to children.

"No, she's going to sit in here with us." John replied with a frown.

"Excuse my brother, his Victorian sensibilities are telling him that children should be seen and not heard." Sherlock said sarcastically.

Mycroft glared at Sherlock and began a silent conversation that John wanted nothing to do with.

"Come on Rosie, let's say hello to Uncle Mycroft." John murmured to the baby in his arms.

"Uncle? We are not siblings." Mycroft said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, you're Uncle Mycroft to Rosie." John replied, walking over and placing his daughter down on the elder Holmes brother's lap.

"John!" Mycroft spluttered, quickly putting his cup of tea down and reaching out to steady the baby with nervous hands, "I have meetings to attend!"

"You supposedly have meetings to attend, but you have two hours to waste on Monopoly? Come on brother, just hold her." Sherlock chuckled, enjoying his brother's discomfort.

"I do hope she won't cause a mess. This is a custom-made suit." Mycroft replied, his expression showing how inconvenient he found the situation as he gently repositioned Rosie.

John let out a snort of amusement as he sat down on the sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Although he hadn't moved back into Baker Street after Mary's death, he still found himself gravitating towards the flat and his quirky detective friend.

Sherlock's phone began to ring and he casually answered it. His eyes lit up with excitement as Lestrade gave him all the details of the latest serial killer on the loose in London.

"A case?" John asked, trying to swallow down the excitement that he could feel building within him. Although he didn't regret becoming a father, John did find himself missing his life as Sherlock's 'sidekick'.

"At least a 6, possibly even a high 7. Murder suicide." Sherlock replied, pocketing his phone and getting to his feet. He strode across the living room and began putting his coat and scarf on.

John watched Sherlock for a moment before he looked back over at Rosie, who was now gazing happily up at Mycroft's stern face. After giving the situation a very, very brief risk assessment, John decided that the British Government would be a satisfactory babysitter for his daughter.

"See you later, Mycroft! All of Rosie's things are in my bag and Mrs Hudson has spares." John said, jumping to his feet and hurriedly putting his own coat on.

"Excuse me? Dr. Watson, I must protest!" Mycroft argued, his tone becoming sharp, "I have important diplomatic meetings to attend this afternoon that cannot be rescheduled."

"That's nice. Have fun!" John replied with a smile and a wave before he turned on his heel and followed Sherlock downstairs.

* * *

"You do realise that Mycroft will make your life hell for this, don't you?" Sherlock asked as John joined him on the pavement outside of 221B Baker Street.

"Absolutely, but it's worth it. I get to spend an afternoon on a case with you and Mycroft gets to spend time with his new niece." John said with a chuckle.

* * *

"Anthea, we have a situation..." Mycroft sighed, holding his phone with one hand and the small child with the other.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**_ Here's a second chapter for all those who have commented/messaged wanting more!

* * *

It was well into the evening by the time that Sherlock and John returned to 221B. Their hearts were pounding and their breathing was fast as they made their way up the stairs. The case had been exhilarating and was a much needed adrenaline boost for both of them.

It wasn't until they were both sat opposite each other with a cup of tea that John realised his daughter and Mycroft were no longer in 221B.

"Damn it, Sherlock, we forgot Rosie!" John exclaimed, hurriedly putting his tea down and pulling out his phone.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "We didn't forget her, she's with Mycroft." he replied.

"Yes and where is Mycroft?" John asked, "We left Rosie here with him and now he's probably taken her to some secret government facility."

"My brother isn't a complete idiot, John. He wouldn't put Rosie in any danger." Sherlock replied, watching John as he sipped his tea.

"Great, now Mycroft isn't answering!" John huffed in frustration, getting to his feet, "I need to go and get her. It's way past her bedtime and he probably hasn't fed her or anything..."

Sherlock sighed and pulled out his own phone, sending off a quick text to Anthea.

"They're at the office." Sherlock said, getting to his feet, "I'll go with you so they'll let you in."

"What's he doing in his office at this time of night anyway? Doesn't he ever go home?" John muttered, pulling on his coat again with a weary sigh.

"I doubt Mycroft has slept since 1990." Sherlock replied as he put his own coat on.

"What happened in 1990?" John asked as they went down the stairs.

"He started working for the government. He's been a robot ever since." Sherlock chuckled, shutting the front door behind them both. He put his arm out and a cab pulled up within seconds.

"How do you do that?" John asked, watching him.

"It's a skill." Sherlock replied with a smile.

* * *

"Where is my daughter?" John demanded when he finally reached Anthea's desk, just outside of Mycroft's office. Sherlock was a few steps behind him, not in as much of a rush as John.

"Rosie is in with Mr Holmes. He insisted on looking after her himself." Anthea replied with a smile, "Mr Holmes is just on the phone to the Prime Minister, would you mind waiting for a few minutes?"

"How long is the call going to take?" John asked, tiredness and worry beginning to show on his face.

"Not long. Please take a seat and I'll notify you once he's ready for you." Anthea replied with another polite smile.

"Yeah, I'm not waiting for him to be ready. I'll be waiting all bloody night." John muttered, walking towards the door to the office.

"Dr Watson, please be quiet. The call is very important." Anthea pleaded, standing up as John opened the door.

Sherlock followed John into the office and shut the door behind them. He almost bumped into John as he turned around, as his ex-flatmate had stopped dead a few feet away from the door.

Mycroft was pacing behind his desk, his mobile phone pressed to his right ear as he cradled a sleeping Rosie with his left arm.

"Prime Minister, I really must insist-" Mycroft started and then stopped, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. He briefly glanced at Sherlock and John and told them to take a seat with a nod of his head.

"The entire defence policy is flawed..." Mycroft explained as Sherlock and John sat down on the other side of the desk. John's eyes were glued to his daughter, who slept soundly against the politician's chest.

"Very well. That is your decision, Prime Minister." Mycroft sighed, continuing to pace as his frustration grew, "I look forward to seeing you at the next Cabinet Office meeting. Good evening, Prime Minister."

Mycroft ended the call with a sharp jab at his phone and placed the device down on top of the desk.

"How was your case?" he asked, sitting down in his own chair as he looked over at Sherlock. He adjusted his hold on Rosie so he was holding her with both arms instead of just one.

"It was a 7." Sherlock replied, "An interesting puzzle."

"So, is Rosie going to need security clearance so you can babysit her more often?" John asked with a chuckle, standing up and moving around the desk.

"I'm sure I could arrange a special security badge." Mycroft replied, carefully handing Rosie over to her father.

"Thank you for looking after her." John said, holding his daughter close.

"It was no problem, John, although I would prefer at least 24 hours notice in future." Mycroft replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, sorry about that." John replied with an apologetic look.

"Looks like you passed the test then, Uncle Myc." Sherlock teased, getting up from his chair.

"You know how I feel about nicknames and shortening of first names, Sherlock." Mycroft replied with a frown.

"Yes, I do, however it wouldn't be my fault if Rosie decided to call you that." Sherlock replied with a shrug.

"It would be entirely your fault if you insist on referring to me as such when you're around Rosie." Mycroft replied, his tone beginning to get sharp.

"Alright, enough boys." John said, "Once again, thank you for looking after Rosie, Mycroft. Come on Sherlock, let's go."

"Bye Uncle Myc!" Sherlock called as they left the office, smirking the whole time.


	3. Chapter 3

"Myc." Rosie proclaimed with a large smile.

"That's it, darling. If only you could master the second half of my name as well as you've mastered the first half." Mycroft replied with a smile, "Let's try it again. My-croft. My-croft."

"Myc!" Rosie repeated, giggling as she pointed at him.

"Okay, well, it could be worse I suppose." Mycroft murmured, picking up his glass and drinking down some whiskey. He'd been picked for babysitting duty at short notice after John had been called in to cover a shift at the last minute. Meetings had been rearranged and phone calls cancelled, but Mycroft enjoyed the brief change in the monotonous routine that was his schedule.

"Hi, it's only me, sorry I'm late!" John called as he entered Mycroft's house with his brand new key, "Where are you both hiding?"

Despite only being able to get into the house with they key when the alarms were off, John still felt a strange excitement when he actually used it. Mycroft was the most powerful and scary man he knew so to have a key to his home was a thrilling privilege.

"Let's let him find us, darling Rosamund. It's ever so rude to raise one's voice in a library." Mycroft said with a mischievous chuckle. He made a shushing motion, placing his finger over his lips and Rosie copied him, making shushing noises.

"I hope you're not drinking." John said with a raised eyebrow as he entered the cosy library, having already checked the lounge and study.

"I hope you're not trying to insinuate that I am drunk whilst in charge of a minor." Mycroft replied, "One drink hardly affects my judgement, I'm not a lightweight."

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot that you're the Holmes brother who can hold your drink." John teased, sitting down in the armchair beside Mycroft.

"Da!" Rosie proclaimed, reaching out to him.

"Hi baby, has Uncle Mycroft been looking after you?" John asked with a smile, leaning over and lifting Rosie off Mycroft's lap and onto his own.

"Myc!" Rosie giggled, clapping her hands as she cuddled into her father.

"She still hasn't got the hang of the '-croft' part then?" John asked with a smile.

"No, despite my multiple attempts to coax it out of her." Mycroft replied, picking up his glass again.

"She'll get it. She's only little at the moment." John assured gently, "Anyway, sorry for the short notice again. Someone called in sick so I had to cover them."

"It really is no problem. I would rather have Rosie with me than let Sherlock traipse around a morgue with her." Mycroft replied with a frown.

"Thanks, I do appreciate your help. You never know, I might even get you a Christmas present to thank you." John chuckled.

"Perhaps I should give you a wish list?" Mycroft joked.

"I doubt I'll be able to afford anything on your wish list." John laughed.

"True." Mycroft agreed with a slight nod, "Rosie had a most enjoyable time at the palace today. I believe she has formed a firm friendship with Charlotte and George."

"You're a lucky girl, Rosie. It sounds like Uncle Mycroft takes you to all of the good places." John said.

"It's important that she interacts with other children. George and Charlotte are of a similar age and the Duchess is keen to encourage them to mingle with others too." Mycroft explained, "I would be more than happy to put you in touch with the Duke and Duchess' PA so you can arrange playdates and such."

"You really are something else, you know that?" John chuckled.

"In a good way?" Mycroft asked cautiously.

"Yes, a very good way. I've never met anyone who can just make things happen like you can." John replied with a smile, "Anyway, come on Rosie. Let's leave Uncle Mycroft in peace."

"It was lovely to see you Rosie, and you too John. Please do call again soon." Mycroft said, getting to his feet.

"I really do plan on giving you more notice in future, this is just how things happened to fall." John said apologetically as he stood up and balanced Rosie on his hip.

"I understand. Not everything goes to plan." Mycroft replied with a nod, leading the way to the door.

"Have you added something in here? It looks different." John stated, glancing around the hallway.

"The rug." Mycroft replied, "I saw it when I was travelling in... well, when I was travelling."

"It looks good. Less cold, more homely." John said with a nod.

Mycroft nodded and reached out, carefully shaking Rosie's hand, "Goodbye Rosamund, John, see you next time."

"Bye Mycroft. Say bye, Rosie." John said as he moved down the steps to his car.

"Bye Myc!" Rosie called, waving her arms at him.

Mycroft waited until the car had driven away before he closed the door and locked it, shutting the outside world out.


	4. Chapter 4

John glanced at his watch as he prepared his doctor's office for the next patient. His first patient of the day had taken up more time than he'd expected and he'd not been able to make up the time. All of the patients that day had entered his office with a frown on their face due to the 30-minute delay they'd been forced to endure before their appointment. He'd apologized and smiled, but there was little that he could do to make he and them feel any better about the situation. In about an hour he was supposed to leave to pick up Rosie from school, but at the rate the appointments were going at, he'd barely be home before teatime. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled out his mobile phone and called a familiar number.

* * *

"Uncle Myc!" Rosie called excitedly as she spotted her uncle waiting for her at the school gates. She ran towards him and barreled into his side, throwing her arms around his waist. She was 7 now and Mycroft had been a regular fixture in her life since she was a baby. To her, he was mysterious, dependable and incredibly cool.

"Hello, dearest Rosamund." Mycroft replied with a smile that he reserved just for her.

"It's Rosie." She pouted playfully, repeating her line in a very old argument.

"How about I call you Rosie if you call me Uncle Mycroft?" Mycroft suggested with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I prefer Uncle Myc." Rosie decided.

Mycroft chuckled and shook his head a little, guiding her towards his car with a hand on her back, "You might want to let go, Rosie, it will be rather difficult to enter the car with you stuck to my hip like a limpet."

"A limpet is a sea snail!" Rosie declared proudly, letting go of him and climbing into the back of the car.

"It is indeed." Mycroft agreed.

With a quick look around the school yard and car park to ensure there were no threats, Mycroft climbed into the car too.

"Sherlock taught me all about the beach and the animals on the beach." Rosie said as she buckled her seat belt.

"Yes, you went on a day trip to the beach with Sherlock while you were visiting my parents, didn't you?" Mycroft replied, putting his own seat belt on. When he was alone in the car, he didn't bother with the belt but John had insisted that he must set a good example for Rosie.

"Do you ever go to the beach?" Rosie asked.

"No, I haven't been since I was your age." Mycroft admitted.

"Why not?" Rosie asked.

"I've really never been a fan of the beach. I prefer libraries." Mycroft replied, quickly checking his phone before he put it back into this pocket again.

"Are you supposed to be working?" Rosie asked, watching him check his phone.

"I'm always working, my dear Rosamund, but I have taken the afternoon off in order to be with you." Mycroft replied with a smile.

"Can we go somewhere special?" Rosie asked, "Somewhere we don't usually go to?"

"Of course. Do you have a place in mind?" Mycroft asked.

"Can we go to the zoo?" Rosie asked, fluttering her eyelashes persuasively.

"Of course, my little limpet." Mycroft replied indulgently. He leaned forward and knocked on the partition, waiting for it to roll down before he gave instructions to the driver.

* * *

Mycroft looked, and felt, incredibly uncomfortable at the zoo. His custom-made, tailored suits weren't designed for outings with children and he was beginning to feel the strain. He walked hand-in-hand with Rosie, allowing her to pull him along in different directions to see the animals. He carefully lifted her into his arms to give her a better view when she pulled on his sleeve. Waistcoats were formal and perfect for the office, but they pinched horridly on long walks around the zoo.

Three security guards followed them at a distance, as even on his afternoon off, Mycroft had to be carefully guarded by the secret service. If enemies were to get their hands on the elder Holmes brother then Britain would be in trouble.

"Can we look in the shop?" Rosie asked hopefully.

"Of course." Mycroft replied, leading her into the large gift shop. Money wasn't an issue for him but he didn't like to spend too much on Rosie, as John often didn't take it well.

After almost an hour in the gift shop, Rosie finally decided her favourites from the toys she'd forced him to carry around for her. Mycroft handed over his card and enjoyed the moment of confusion on the staff member's face as they debated what to do with the card. It didn't have his name or any numbers on it like any other bank or credit cards.

"Just swipe it." he advised with a polite smile.

* * *

"I think you've tired out Uncle Mycroft." John chuckled as he entered the living room in Mycroft's large house to find the two of them sprawled on the sofa.

"Daddy, we went to the zoo!" Rosie squealed excitedly, rushing over to John with her arms full of stuffed animal toys.

"Did you? It looks like you also returned with the whole gift shop." John teased, pulling her into a hug.

"Not the whole gift shop, Daddy!" Rosie protested, "Uncle Mycroft only let me have a few things."

"John, please note that I am only Uncle Mycroft to Rosie when I've done something wrong." Mycroft murmured with a chuckle, turning to face the army doctor.

"You look exhausted." John teased the government official, "Busy afternoon?"

"I am convinced that we lapped the zoo at least 7 times." Mycroft replied, "I didn't realise that it was quite so big."

"Put your feet up and have a rest, mate." John laughed, patting Mycroft's shoulder. It was the first time that he'd properly touched the government official and it showed how tired Mycroft was that he didn't attempt to dodge the touch in any way.

"Bye Uncle Myc." Rosie said, climbing up onto the sofa and giving her uncle a hug, "Thank you for taking me to the zoo."

"I hope you enjoyed yourself." Mycroft replied, gently hugging her back, "I'll see you at the weekend. Sherlock has requested my presence for a case."

"Bye, Mycroft. See you in a few days." John said, picking up the stuffed animals from where Rosie had dropped them.

"Not that one. That one stays with Uncle Myc." Rosie declared, picking out one of the soft toys and handing it to Mycroft.

"A meerkat?" Mycroft questioned with a raised eyebrow, accepting the stuffed toy.

"You're like a meerkat. You're always watching things." Rosie explained with a smile, "Bye Uncle Myc." she added, walking to the hallway to put her shoes on.

"A meerkat, eh?" John teased with a raised eyebrow, "I dread to think what she'll pick out for Sherlock."

"Do text me and let me know, won't you?" Mycroft chuckled.

"Have a good night, Mycroft. Thanks for spending the afternoon with her." John replied with a smile, following his daughter out with the soft toys in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

It was only after Rosie began secondary school - a school handpicked for her by Mycroft - that she began to understand how important her uncle was. She'd always known that he was busy and had important responsibilities at work, but she'd never quite understood the whole picture. Mycroft had never kept anything from her; she'd just never thought to ask more about his work. Now, watching him calmly stand up for her against the headmaster of the school, she got it. Mycroft was important and dangerous and very, very cool. To the outside world, he was an ice-cold puppet master, but to Rosie, he was her kind and loving Uncle Myc.

"Mr Holmes, I apologize-" the headmaster began.

"Good. You should apologize." Mycroft replied, "Rosamund is here on my recommendation and I can easily withdraw any further recommendations for this school."

"I didn't realise-" the headmaster began again.

"Yes, I am well aware that you didn't realise the truth of the matter. If you were aware of the truth then we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?" Mycroft said, "I truly am disappointed with your attitude and the attitude of the entire school."

"It was an easy mistake to make, Mr Holmes." the headmaster protested.

"Really? Was it?" Mycroft questioned with a frown, "Rosamund is an incredibly bright pupil. She has been taught by my brother and I from when she was very young."

"Mr Holmes-" the headmaster tried to speak.

"No, listen very carefully to my words. Clearly these things need to be spelt out to you slowly." Mycroft replied with a frustrated sigh, "Instead of spotting that Rosamund wasn't being challenged by your mediocre language lessons, your teachers instantly assumed that she was a trouble pupil who was unwilling to learn. Had any of you bothered to speak to her before you dragged me in here then you would know that."

"I truly am sorry-" the headmaster sighed as he yet again tried to apologize.

"I had a meeting with the Prime Minister that I had to cancel in order to sit here and talk to you." Mycroft said sharply, "So your rash, unthinking actions have not only disrupted my day, but also the day of the Prime Minister of this country."

"We did try to contact Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson before we called you, Mr Holmes." the headmaster argued.

"Please do not infer that my attendance at this meeting is in any way the fault of my brother and Dr. Watson." Mycroft said with a frown.

"I understand, Mr Holmes. Next time we will speak with Rosamund before we call you or Dr. Watson." the headmaster relented.

"Next time? I do hope you are not insinuating that Rosamund is a trouble child and that there will be more instances?" Mycroft replied with a raised eyebrow, "I would tread very carefully if I were you, Headmaster."

"No, of course not. I apologize for my words." the Headmaster murmured.

"Very well. As far as I am concerned, the matter has been addressed and this meeting is now over." Mycroft declared, getting to his feet.

Rosie quickly got to her feet too, having watched the back and forth between the two men with fascination.

"Thank you for coming, Mr Holmes. I appreciate your time." the Headmaster said, standing up from his chair.

"It's your daughter Emily who's just started work at the Foreign Office, isn't it?" Mycroft asked, offering his hand for the man to shake.

The headmaster's eyes widened a little and he nodded, "Yes. She has been given a place on the international relations graduate scheme." he replied, shaking the elder Holmes brother's hand.

"I look forward to meeting her and welcoming her to the department." Mycroft said, a threat clear in his tone, "Good day, Headmaster. Come along Rosamund."

Rosie glanced apologetically at the headmaster before she followed her uncle out of the office, closing the door behind them. She waited to speak until they were out in the main corridor.

"That was amazing." she gushed, "How did you do that?"

"It is my job to know information and to negotiate in high-pressure situations, a quick chat with a headmaster is nothing." Mycroft replied, his tone still sharp.

Rosie nodded a little and increased her pace to keep up with his quick strides.

"Are you going to tell Dad?" Rosie asked nervously when they reached the car.

"That you've been reading books at the back of the room and ignoring your teachers instead of involving yourself in lessons?" Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow before his expression softened, "No, I won't tell your father. I know it's difficult Rosie, but sometimes we must apply ourselves to something even when it is boring or beneath our skill level."

"They called Sherlock and Dad first so they'll know something's gone on." Rosie sighed.

"You're going to come home with me and when asked, you will say that you were feeling unwell this morning." Mycroft replied.

"You're letting me ditch school?" Rosie asked in amazement.

"No. You are coming home with me and I'm going to tutor you myself today. Clearly the lessons in French and German can't have been very good if you lacked interest in them." Mycroft replied, "You'll have nailed the very basics by the end of the afternoon, I assure you."

"Uncle Myc, you're clearly very busy, I don't want to get in the way of your schedule." Rosie sighed.

"Rosamund, you are the closest thing that I will get to a daughter." Mycroft said gently, "If your language lessons aren't up to scratch then the least I can do is provide you with a basic knowledge of languages that I myself am fluent in."

"Okay." Rosie agreed with a nod. She waited until he opened the car door and then she climbed in first, scooting over so he could sit beside her.

Mycroft slid into the car with ease and it began moving as soon as the door was shut.

"That really was epic." Rosie admitted quietly, glancing over at her uncle, "But I'm sorry that I had to disrupt your schedule in order to witness it."

"I didn't really have a meeting with the Prime Minister." Mycroft admitted with a smile, meeting her eyes.

"You made that up? Really?" Rosie laughed, awe on her face.

"Yes. I would hardly have been successful in my attempt to make the man feel guilty if I told him that I had a meeting with a minor cabinet minister about a minor issue." Mycroft replied as if it was obvious.

"I thought you said that we have to apply ourselves to things even when they're boring or beneath or skill level?" Rosie countered playfully.

"You're definitely a Watson." Mycroft murmured with an amused shake of his head.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A** **/N:** **For RedHatMeg, who gave me the idea of Mycroft defending Rosie from a bully - I hope you like it!**_

* * *

"You think you're so clever, don't you? With your big hardback books and your fancy handwriting." Thomas Price mocked as he followed Rosie along the school corridor, "Just because you can speak French and German doesn't mean that you're any better than us."

"I never said that I was." Rosie replied, instantly regretting replying to the bully's words.

"What did you say? Did you answer back to me?" the boy laughed, grabbing Rosie's books and throwing them onto the floor, "You're just a poor little nobody. You don't deserve to even be at this school."

Rosie dropped to her knees and began collecting up the books. They were old hardbacks of works by Aristotle and Plato that Sherlock had given her to read.

"Remember your place, Rosie." the boy hissed as he walked away, "Everyone here is going to be someone, except you. You'll be no one. Invisible."

* * *

"Get into the car, Mr. Price." Mycroft said coldly, his eyes fixed on the schoolboy he'd cornered.

"Why should I?" the boy demanded, glaring at the four armed secret service agents that were stopping him from making a run for it.

"I understand that you are studying law with the intention of going into politics or local government?" Mycroft said, glancing at his small black book for confirmation, "How would you instead like to fail your exams and go into a lifelong career of flipping burgers and frying chips?"

"Are you threatening me?" the schoolboy demanded.

"I think you know the answer to that." Mycroft replied with a dark smile, "Get into the car, Mr. Price."

With a final glance around, Thomas sighed and climbed into the car.

Mycroft climbed into the car and sat opposite the boy. The locks engaged as soon as the car door shut.

"Right, now we're alone, let's talk frankly about you and your future, Mr. Price." Mycroft said with a dark smile.

"Who are you?" Thomas demanded, trying the door handle nearest to him.

"I'm your worst nightmare." Mycroft replied, "I'm the man that can destroy your life and career before you even take a single exam."

"What do you want?" the boy demanded.

"That's not how this works." Mycroft smirked, "Instead of wanting something for you, I have an instruction for you."

"An instruction?" Thomas repeated.

"Yes, it's quite simple really." Mycroft replied, "You will stop harassing Rosamund Watson. You won't speak to her, you won't speak about her and if you so much as look at her then you and I will be having another little conversation."

"Has Rosie had to call her Dad in to deal with her problems?" Thomas laughed.

Mycroft sighed, "You really are a slow one, aren't you, Mr. Price?" he said, "Rosamund has friends in high places and you will learn just how high if you continue with your current line of conversation."

"I'm not scared of you." the boy laughed, "You're probably just a banker or something."

"How much do your parents earn?" Mycroft asked, opening a briefcase full of cash on the seat beside him, "A combined income of £100,000 perhaps? Or more, how about £200,000?"

The boy nodded, his eyes fixed on the crisp banknotes in the briefcase.

Mycroft chuckled and pulled out a lighter before he carefully lit the edges of the banknotes, "There is £200,000 in the briefcase. It's just pennies to me. Go ahead, watch it burn." he said, "This is what will happen if you don't leave Rosamund Watson alone from now on. Your parents' incomes will cease, your house will be taken by the bank and you will be forced to leave your high perch at school."

"You can't do that. No one person could do that." Thomas murmured, fear in his eyes as he watched the flames take hold of the bank notes.

"I can and I will." Mycroft replied, plucking a £50 note from one of the burning bundles, "Here, this is for you."

"Why?" Thomas asked, taking the charred note.

"Because that is the most you will ever earn in a day if you continue to bully others. I will personally ensure that you fail every exam that you sit and that the only job you manage to hold down is one that offers no prospects." Mycroft explained with a dark smile, "Do you understand what I'm saying, Mr. Price?"

"Yes, Sir." the boy gulped, watching the money burn in the briefcase.

"Good boy, I knew we'd see eye to eye in the end." Mycroft replied, "You can leave the car now, Mr. Price."

There was a click as the car doors unlocked, the car slowing to a stop at the curb.

"Where are we?" Thomas asked, unable to see out of the tinted windows.

"Your house." Mycroft replied, "It's just a reminder that I know where you live, in case you couldn't figure that out for yourself. I hope we won't have to meet again, Thomas."

"No, Sir." Thomas murmured quietly, quickly throwing open the car door and getting out. He virtually ran up the driveway to get away from the vehicle.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head, "These grand displays of power really are tedious." he murmured to himself, patting out the flaming bank notes with a fireproof cloth he kept in the pocket of the car door.

* * *

"Uncle Myc, did you say something to one of the boys at school?" Rosie asked as she played chess with her uncle one Saturday afternoon.

"Why do you ask?" Mycroft asked as he moved his knight.

"It's just, this one boy, Thomas Price, was quite mean to me and now he seems scared to even come near me." Rosie explained, "Did you have something to do with that?"

"I believe that Mr. Price has learnt his lesson and won't be bullying anyone again at your school." Mycroft replied vaguely.

"You kidnapped him, didn't you?" Rosie chuckled softly, moving her bishop across a few squares on the board.

"Kidnap is a strong word." Mycroft said as he moved another chess piece, "I merely suggested that it would be wise for him to pursue other activities instead of bullying."

"Dad told you about the incident with the books, didn't he?" Rosie asked quietly, feeling a little ashamed for having to get her uncle involved in her school life.

"No. Sherlock made me aware of the situation." Mycroft replied, "I was only too happy to terrorize the boy."

"Thank you." Rosie murmured quietly, "You've done such a lot for me over the years and I do appreciate it."

"I know you do." Mycroft assured, "Now make your move so I can declare checkmate."

"What? How?" Rosie asked in surprise, looking down at the board, "I really don't know how you manage to win so easily."

"It's years of practice." Mycroft replied, "You're doing well. It won't be long and you'll be able to give me a run for my money."


	7. Chapter 7

"What's going on? Dad? Sherlock?" Rosie asked as she got back from school one afternoon. She was a teenager now and more than able to navigate the journey to and from school alone.

"Come and sit down with us." John said, gently patting the sofa beside him.

"That sounds ominous." Rosie murmured as she sat down, resting her schoolbag on the floor, "Is this about my homework? I have been doing it but it's not my fault it's all so boring and easy."

"It's not about your homework." John reassured softly, taking his daughter's hand as he glanced at Sherlock for support.

"It's about Mycroft." Sherlock said carefully, "There was an accident."

"What kind of accident? Is Uncle Myc okay?" Rosie asked worriedly.

"Rosie, Mycroft was shot." Sherlock said gently, "He's alive and in hospital, but he's in a critical condition."

"I want to see him." Rosie said, standing up again.

"Sit down, darling." John soothed, pulling her back down.

"You can't visit him just yet. They're flying him back to the UK tonight and his condition will be assessed by a team of private doctors." Sherlock explained calmly.

"Where was he shot? When can I see him?" Rosie asked, practically demanding more information.

"He was shot twice in the chest while he was travelling in Shanghai." John said, "It'll be a couple of days before you can see him. We'll all go and see him after he's pulled through this difficult stage."

"So you're going to see him before I'm allowed to? That's not fair!" Rosie argued.

"Rosie, seeing someone in hospital can be very upsetting. Sherlock and I will visit Mycroft and then we can decide when you're allowed to see him." John replied.

"That's so unfair, Dad!" Rosie complained, "If Mum were here, she'd let me go."

"Your Mum isn't here, so tough." John snapped and then sighed, "I'm sorry, Rosie, I just think it's best that you wait a few days before you see him."

Sherlock nodded a little, "Mycroft wouldn't want you to see him in hospital. You know how he is." he said gently.

"You don't know what he would want! All you two do is argue!" Rosie snapped before she stormed upstairs to her room, slamming the bedroom door shut.

"She won't take no for an answer." Sherlock said, leaning back and looking over at John.

"I know." John sighed, "I just don't want her to see him and to be upset."

* * *

After her brief teenage tantrum the night before, Rosie reigned in her feelings and attempted to mask them like Uncle Myc always did. She intended to visit him in hospital and she didn't want Dad or Sherlock to guess what she was up to.

"Ready for school?" John asked with a smile as Rosie came down the stairs in her school uniform.

"Yes. Sorry about last night, I was upset." Rosie replied with an apologetic smile, giving her Dad a hug.

"I know it's upsetting, Rosie." John soothed, "It won't be long before you're able to see him, I promise."

"I understand." Rosie replied with a sigh and a nod, moving away from her Dad to make her breakfast.

"What have you got today?" John asked as he sat down at the breakfast bar opposite her.

"Latin and Japanese, with Maths sandwiched in between." Rosie replied, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"How do you not get confused with all those languages?" John chuckled.

"It's pretty easy to keep them separate. Uncle Myc taught me how." Rosie replied quietly.

"I used to hate Mycroft and his meddling, you know." John admitted as Rosie ate her cereal, "He was always following us around on the CCTV and with those cars of his."

"What changed?" Rosie asked curiously.

"Sherlock has told you about his sister, right?" John asked.

"Yes, the mad one. Eurus." Rosie replied with a nod.

"Eurus managed to trap the three of us - me, Sherlock and Mycroft - in a high security prison. She was tired of being locked away and wanted to get even." John explained, "I'll tell you the full story one day, when you're old enough. Just know that traumatic things happened at that place and both Sherlock and I left with a new opinion of Mycroft. From then on, we've tried to include him in our lives and he has taken a liking to you, as I'm sure is abundantly clear."

"Did Uncle Myc want kids? He was always so good with me, but he's so cold to everyone else." Rosie said, sipping her juice.

"I don't know." John admitted honestly, "After all these years, Mycroft is still an enigma to me."

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to be in Maths?" came Anthea's voice as Rosie dropped down over the fence at the back of the school playfields.

"Anthea!" Rosie exclaimed, turning suddenly to face the lane at the back of the school, "You scared me!"

Anthea was leaning against the black car that was parked in the road, clearly waiting for Rosie to appear.

"Mycroft warned me you'd try something like this." Anthea replied with a smile.

"He's talking? Is he alright?" Rosie asked worriedly, walking closer to the car with her bag over her shoulder.

Anthea shook her head, "He's not woken yet but he was quite insistent that I watch you while the paramedics were dealing with him in Shanghai."

"Are you going to take me back to school?" Rosie asked with a sigh.

"Of course not. Get in, we're going to the hospital." Anthea replied, getting into the car and leaving the door open in invitation.

"Am I going to get in trouble for this?" Rosie asked as she got in, closing the car door.

"No. I'll speak to the Headmaster." Anthea assured with a wave of her hand, "I know that the man is aware of Mycroft's importance so he won't question you missing a couple of lessons."

* * *

"Oh gosh." Rosie gasped, a hand going to her mouth as her eyes trailed over her uncle's motionless, pale body.

"You alright?" Anthea asked gently, standing beside the teenager.

"Yes, it's just a shock. I've never seen him so still." Rosie admitted.

"Mycroft dislikes the thought of appearing weak to those around him." Anthea said, "I was as shocked as you were when I first saw him hospitalized."

"Does this sort of thing happen often?" Rosie asked.

"From time to time." Anthea admitted quietly, "This is highly unusual though. The attacker was posing as a butler so Mycroft wasn't wearing his bulletproof vest at the time."

"Dad said that his condition was critical." Rosie said, taking a step closer to the bed, "What's wrong with him?"

"One bullet damaged one of his lungs and the other bullet missed his heart by half an inch." Anthea replied, "I had to contain the attacker before I could call for medical aide. In that short amount of time, he lost a lot of blood."

Rosie nodded a little as she listened, glancing at the different machines that were all beeping quietly around the bed.

"Can I…?" she asked, trailing off as she stepped forward.

"Of course. You can hold his hand, if you like. Just be careful of the tubes and wires." Anthea assured with a smile, "I'll give you some space."

Rosie waited until Anthea had left the room and closed the door before she moved closer to the bed. She was afraid that she'd accidentally hurt him or knock something over if she got too close.

"Uncle Mycroft, you've made everyone very worried." Rosie said quietly, reaching out and touching the man's hand, "I hope you'll feel better soon."

"Why am I always Uncle Mycroft when I've done something wrong?" Mycroft groaned out, his throat sore from lack of use. He didn't open his eyes or move; not wanting to show that he was awake to any casual observers in the corridor outside.

"Uncle Myc? Are you awake?" Rosie asked cautiously, "Why are you pretending to be asleep?"

"I have no intention of becoming hooked on pain killers so I've found a way to pause the drips during the day." Mycroft replied, his lips barely moving as he spoke.

Rosie chuckled a little, "It's good to hear your voice." She said gently, "You should sleep. I'm here, no one will bother you."

"Dearest Rosamund…" Mycroft murmured with a twitch of a smile as he let himself drift off into sleep for the first time in hours.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or sent me a PM about this work. I'm so glad that you like it! Your kind words help me to keep writing more and more chapters! This chapter is for KathyG.**_

* * *

"Oh Mycroft, you're looking so much better! How are you feeling?" Mummy Holmes asked, pulling her eldest son into a tight embrace.

"Much better, Mummy." Mycroft replied, wincing as his torso was squeezed by the hug.

"I've told that PA of yours to look after you from now on." Mummy said, letting him go.

"Anthea does a perfectly acceptable job of looking after me, Mummy." Mycroft sighed, "My job includes an element of danger and that danger sometimes can't be avoided."

"Go and sit down in the living room, Rosie will be here soon." Mummy said, directing her son towards the living room and giving him a little push.

"Sherlock and John will be with Rosie, don't forget them." Mycroft replied as he walked away.

"Oh shush, Mycroft. You're clearly not in any rush to provide me with grandchildren so I must make do with John's wonderful daughter." Mummy replied with a chuckle, walking back to the kitchen.

Mycroft shook his head in amusement as he sat down in one of the armchairs in the living room. He glanced around the familiar room and picked up a paper that Father had left on the arm of the sofa.

"How are you, Mycroft?" Father asked as he came into the room, looking over his son carefully.

"Fine. The usual." Mycroft replied with a nod.

"There isn't a usual for you, Mycroft. There hasn't been since Uncle Rudy set you up in that spy job of yours." Father chuckled, sitting down, "There are some good puzzles in that paper."

"Yes, I see you've attempted them with much vigor." Mycroft replied, looking up over the paper at Father, "I'm not a spy."

"That's not what Sherlock has told me. Apparently the London CCTV networks are carefully monitored by a certain 'MH'." Father teased.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Sherlock has quite the imagination." he said, "Now, have you got a pen? I need to correct your answers so you have at least a marginal chance of winning this week's prize."

Father smiled and handed a ratty old Biro pen to his son, letting Mycroft make changes.

* * *

"They're here! They're here!" Mummy called excitedly, practically skipping through the house to open the door.

"Into battle we go." Mycroft murmured under his breath, getting to his feet.

"You can stay sitting down if your chest is hurting, you know." Father said gently, spotting all the signs of Mycroft being in pain.

"No. I'm fine." Mycroft assured, "I've had two bullets rip through my chest, a little pain is to be expected."

"Rosie! Hello, darling!" Mummy exclaimed, pulling the teenage girl into a tight hug.

"Hi Mummy." Rosie replied with a smile, hugging the woman back happily.

"I've made you a lovely chocolate cake in the kitchen. Would you like a piece now or after lunch?" Mummy said, leading the girl into the kitchen.

"Hello Mummy, John and I are also in attendance." Sherlock said with a raised eyebrow as he stepped into the hall.

'What's it like to be ignored?" Mycroft teased, walking over to his brother.

"Clearly Rosie is more exciting that any of us." John chuckled, reaching out and shaking Mycroft's hand.

"How was your journey?" Mycroft asked.

"Well, we got here in one piece." John murmured, "The rest is best left unsaid."

Mycroft chuckled, thinking back to childhood journeys with his brother.

Father nodded and smiled to Sherlock and John before he entered the kitchen to save Rosie from Mummy's attentions.

"Let the girl go. She's only just got here." Father's voice carried from the kitchen, "She can have some cake later."

"Hi Uncle Myc." Rosie said with a smile, immediately moving towards him as she came out of the kitchen. She carefully cuddled into his side, avoiding the areas where he'd been shot.

"Hello dearest Rosamund." Mycroft replied with a smile, putting his arm around her and holding her close. There were very few people that Mycroft allowed to touch him, but he and Rosie had a special bond.

Mycroft's phone began to ring and he sighed, pulling it out of his pocket.

"Mycroft Holmes! You turn that phone off this instant!" Mummy ordered, striding out into the hallway, "You know the rules for family Sunday lunch!"

"I need to keep it on so Anthea can contact me in an emergency." Mycroft replied, "Clearly, this phone call means that there is an emergency."

"Mycroft, I won't tell you again." Mummy replied warningly.

"Mummy-" Mycroft began to protest but froze as the phone was tugged out of his hand and answered by Rosie.

"Mycroft Holmes' phone." she said, "Hi Anthea. Yes, he's fine. Yes, he's arguing with Mummy. Okay, I'll tell him."

Mycroft watched her speak on the phone, examining her expressions for any clue of what Anthea might be saying on the other end.

"Anthea says that you forgot your painkillers. They're in your desk draw apparently." Rosie said with a raised eyebrow.

"That's hardly an emergency!" Mycroft complained.

"It is an emergency is you're not taking them as you should be. Okay, I'll tell him. Bye Anthea." Rosie said, ending the call and handing the phone back to her uncle, "Your painkillers are on the way, by helicopter apparently."

"That is a complete waste of government resources. I dread to think how much paperwork I will have to fill out to justify a small package being delivered to me by helicopter." Mycroft muttered in frustration, turning the phone off.

"Why aren't you taking your painkillers?" John asked, scanning him for signs of discomfort.

"Come on, let's have some cake." Mycroft said to Rosie, ignoring John's question completely. He walked towards the kitchen, leading Rosie along with him.

Sherlock watched his brother with a frown, "He's an idiot." he said to John.

"He is if he's not taking his painkillers." John agreed, "Why wouldn't he take them? Those bullet wounds must hurt like hell."

"Mycroft is afraid that he will become addicted to his painkillers. He thinks that because we both share obsessive personalities, he'll take a liking to drugs in the same way that I did." Sherlock explained quietly, "He's wrong, though. I wanted to make my brain stop whereas he's terrified of losing our 'ability'. Drugs wouldn't suit him."

"Are you two going to stand there whispering or are you going to have some cake?" Mummy asked, stepping out into the hall, "I've already had words with Mycroft today, don't make me have words with you two too."

"I'm innocent in all of this." John said, putting his hands up in a surrender position.

"You're never innocent." Sherlock told his ex-flatmate with a smile as they moved towards the kitchen, Mummy shepherding them towards the kitchen island.

* * *

"None of those for me, Mummy." Mycroft said as Mummy went to spoon a heap of sprouts onto his plate.

Mummy looked up and raised her eyebrow in challenge, daring him to argue a second time as she put the sprouts onto his plate anyway.

"You never learn." Sherlock chuckled under his breath, "The sprouts aren't optional."

"What was that Sherlock? Would you like some more sprouts?" Mummy asked with a sweet smile, spooning more sprouts onto his plate.

John watched the whole encounter with amusement, enjoying how Mummy could turn the most powerful man in the British Government and the consulting detective into quivering schoolboys.

Mycroft looked over at Sherlock with a large, mocking smile, having spoken out originally with the intention of getting Sherlock to trip up.

"I'm supposed to be the child in the family, but you two are giving me a run for my money." Rosie chuckled, looking between the two Holmes brothers with a fond smile.


	9. Chapter 9

"Is this what I think it is?" Rosie asked, looking down at the piece of paper that her uncle had just presented to her.

"Yes." Mycroft replied with a serious nod, watching her face for any clue of what she was thinking.

"Uncle Myc, thank you and all, but it's a little early to be considering universities." Rosie said gently, looking back up at him.

"Nonsense, it's never too early." Mycroft replied, "If you start planning now then you'll know what grades are expected for Oxford."

"Oxford? Really?" Rosie scoffed and put the paper down on the chessboard between them.

"You have the potential to be accepted into Oxford, don't put yourself down, Rosamund." Mycroft replied with a frown.

"You know as well as I do that it's got nothing to do with my potential." Rosie replied with a raised eyebrow, "All you'd have to do was give them a call and I'd be in."

"That's not exactly how it works." Mycroft denied carefully.

Rosie rolled her eyes, "Yes, it is! That's how you do everything!" she argued, "All it takes is one phone call and then things have been decided."

"I apologize if I've brought up the topic at the wrong moment, I just thought that you'd like to be prepared." Mycroft replied, taking the list of universities and putting it back into his jacket.

"I do want to be prepared." Rosie said quietly, "It's just, I don't know if I want to go to university yet, you know? I mean, there are plenty of other opportunities out there."

"You future salary options will be greatly reduced if you don't go to university." Mycroft warned, "Think carefully, Rosamund. The decision you make at this stage in your life will impact the rest of your life."

"Mycroft! Stop!" Rosie gasped in frustration, "This is what I'm taking about! All this pressure is too much! How can I be expected to know what I want to do for the rest of my life?"

Mycroft sighed and sat back in his chair, watching her as he considered what to say to appease her. He'd always known what his calling was so it was difficult to imagine a situation where one didn't know which path to choose for their future. His main recommendation was university, purely because of the networking opportunities it offered, but he did understand that university wasn't the path for everyone. However, he was well aware of Rosie's intelligence and it worried him that she was considering turning her back on academia.

"Have you spoken about your feelings with John or Sherlock?" Mycroft asked after a couple of minutes of awkward silence between them.

"No. Sherlock doesn't understand and Dad says he just wants me to be happy. What does that even mean? It's certainly not remotely helpful." Rosie sighed, "I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's not your fault."

"I have a suggestion." Mycroft said gently, "I don't know if it would help you in your decision making process, but I feel it may offer you some insight into the world of work."

"What's your suggestion?" Rosie asked.

"I may be able to arrange for you to shadow various staff in my department." Mycroft said, "You wouldn't be able to take part in any operations, but I could arrange for work experience with administration, HR, the press office etc."

"You would do that for me?" Rosie asked with a smile.

"Of course. You are intelligent and polite, I have no reason to think that you wouldn't be welcomed by my department." Mycroft replied with a smile.

"I would have to ask, Dad. You know how he feels about your work." Rosie admitted.

"He knows that I would never put you in harm's way." Mycroft said, "I will speak with him about it."

"Thank you. I know you'll be able to sell it to him better than I could." Rosie replied, "Anyway, do you want to go first?"

"You must go first, dearest Rosamund. A true gentleman couldn't possibly go first in a game of chess." Mycroft said with mock horror.

Rosie laughed, "If you insist, kind Sir." she replied.

"I insist." Mycroft chuckled, turning the board so the white pieces were on her side.

Rosie smiled and looked down at the board, pausing for a moment before she began the game. "Look, Uncle Myc-" she started.

"If you decide that university isn't the right option for you then I will support you in whatever you decide to do." Mycroft assured gently, "Don't worry, my dearest, you will always be a star to me."

Rosie blushed and smiled, her fears immediately settled by his words, "Thank you." she replied. After taking another moment to gather herself, she reached out and made her first move on the chessboard.

* * *

"You're not still playing chess, are you? You've probably been at it all day." John chuckled from the doorway of the library, watching Mycroft and Rosie move the pieces silently.

"A game of chess can't be rushed." Mycroft murmured, waving one of his hands towards the sofa in an invitation for John to join them.

"Every move has to be carefully considered, especially considering I'm playing against Uncle Myc." Rosie replied, looking over at her father with a smile.

"Do you two ever actually go outside when you spend time together?" John teased as he sat down.

"Outside?" Mycroft repeated with a frown, looking up at John, "Why would we want to go outside?"

"You're turning my daughter into a Mycroft clone." John joked.

"If all I am able to teach her is to play a good game of chess then I will die happy." Mycroft replied with a smile.

"Well, I think I might actually die before you finish that game." John said, getting to his feet again, "Come on, Rosie. Time to go home."

"Five more minutes? Please Dad?" Rosie pleaded.

"No. Come on. You can finish the game when you next see Mycroft." John said, putting his foot down.

"But that could be ages away!" Rosie protested as she reluctantly got up from the armchair she'd occupied all afternoon.

"I doubt it will be that long. You're round here almost every Sunday, darling." John pointed out with a raised eyebrow, "You need to give Uncle Mycroft a rest."

"You're always welcome here, Rosamund." Mycroft assured, getting to his feet, "I won't move any of the pieces. The board will stay exactly like this until you return."

Rosie moved in and gave Mycroft a gentle hug, "See you soon. Look after yourself, Uncle Myc." she said with a smile.

"See you soon." Mycroft replied, squeezing her gently before he let her go.

Rosie trudged out into the hallway to put her coat and shoes on.

"Teenagers, eh?" John chuckled to the elder Holmes brother, "I hope she's not too much for you."

"I'm 60, not 600." Mycroft replied with a roll of his eyes.

"I know, but I'm also aware that she can be a little intense." John said quietly, "Let me know if you need a rest, okay?"

"You do realise that I still work full time?" Mycroft replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry I asked." John muttered, raising his hands in a surrender motion.

"Thank you for your concern, John. I will let you know if I ever need a break." Mycroft assured, acknowledging the younger man's concerns, "Pass on my best wishes to my brother."

"I'll tell him you said hi." John replied, heading for the door, "Bye Mycroft, see you soon."

"Goodbye, John." Mycroft said with a nod, moving to sit down again. He knew that he wasn't getting any younger but he was in no rush to slow down just yet.


	10. Chapter 10

_Can I come over? RW_

Mycroft looked around as the mobile phone notification pulled his thoughts away from the book he'd been reading. He sighed in frustration when he realized that he had no idea where he'd put the device down. Middle age hadn't been kind and old age was proving to be ghastly. He put his bookmark into the book and placed the book down on the side table before he pulled himself up. After ten minutes of fruitless searching, where his reading glasses had fallen off his head twice, Mycroft finally laid eyes on the device. He picked it up and unlocked it with a swipe of his thumb. The message made him smile as he was always willing to see Rosie.

 ** _Of course. Are you alright? MH_**

 _Yes. RW_

 _Okay, no, but I'll tell you when I see you. RW_

 _ **Okay, see you later. MH**_

Mycroft put the phone away in the pocket of his cardigan, determined not to leave it lying around again.

Anthea had insisted that he step back from work more and more as he approached 65, in order to give his brain and body a rest. He was more forgetful nowadays and he hated every minute of it. The only good thing about getting old and approaching retirement was the ability to spend most of the week in the library with his books. He spent more time at home than he did in the office, which was both a blessing and a curse.

The slippery slope had begun when he'd bought the cardigan. The three-piece suits were elegant and menacing, but also uncomfortable and contained so many fiddly buttons. He couldn't find a good reason for putting on the waistcoat, tie and jacket when he was just going to be sitting at home for the day, so new casual clothes had been sought out. The very thought of wearing something casual had been nauseating at first but soon the joys of comfort and warmth overcame him and he found himself purchasing more cardigans in different colours. It wasn't until he looked at himself in the mirror one morning and took in the trousers, checked shirt and cardigan that he realized he was becoming his father.

How had he become old so quickly? His youth had felt like a lifetime but now as he looked back, he realized it had been over in the blink of an eye. Years of planning and executing covert operations had come and gone in no time. He'd previously thought that his death would come suddenly, a bullet or a stab wound in a carefully planned assassination, but now it looked like a slow decline was on the cards.

"Uncle Myc?" Rosie called out gently as she entered the library.

"Rosamund." Mycroft murmured, turning away from the window and leaving his maudlin thoughts behind. He took in her appearance carefully, knowing that something was wrong.

"I had an argument with Dad." Rosie said quietly before her uncle could deduce it.

"And you don't want to go home?" Mycroft guessed, moving to sit down in his usual armchair.

Rosie nodded, "I was going to go to Baker Street but I know Dad would just follow me there." she explained.

"Will you tell me what's on your mind?" Mycroft asked.

"Only if you tell me what's on yours." Rosie replied, sitting down opposite him. Her eyes were red from crying.

"Very well." Mycroft responded, "I find myself thinking about old age and my youth."

"You're not that old." Rosie pointed out gently.

"No, but I'm not young either." Mycroft replied, "As I step back from work, I find myself thinking more and more about the decisions I made when I was younger."

"Do you have regrets?" Rosie asked curiously.

"Yes. But the past can't be changed." Mycroft replied, "Now, tell me about your argument with John."

"Dad says he wants me to have realistic career expectations." Rosie said with a roll of her eyes.

"You disagree?" Mycroft asked.

"It just feels wrong to go into the world with such a limited way of thinking." Rosie admitted, "Next year I'll be finishing my A-levels and I don't want to limit myself."

"It isn't limiting to think accurately about your career progression." Mycroft replied gently.

"I want more, Uncle Myc." Rosie sighed, "I don't want to work in a shop or sit at a desk. I want to do something worthwhile and exciting and interesting."

Mycroft nodded, "I wanted the same at your age." he admitted.

"What changes?" Rosie asked, "How does everyone go from wanting the world to being happy with a tedious office job?"

"Age, perspective and responsibilities." Mycroft explained, "As you age, your perspective changes and your responsibilities grow. If you move out of home then suddenly you have rent and bills to pay. You work choices are dependent on your financial situation."

"So we all become slaves of the system in the end?" Rosie asked sadly, "I want to be remembered, Uncle Myc. I don't want to just fade into the background."

"We all want to be remembered, Rosamund. You're very young and you've got so much of your life ahead of you, there's no need to worry about these things now." Mycroft reassured.

"I'm just worried that I'll never achieve anything. Sherlock and Dad are like celebrities and you're high-up in the government so I feel like I need to make my mark on the world." Rosie admitted.

"There are many ways of making your mark on the world. Every action makes its mark, no matter how large or small." Mycroft replied, "Each one of us has a role to play in society. John worries that your confidence will be knocked if you were to fail in achieving your dreams."

"I'd rather dream and try and get knocked back than never try at all." Rosie pointed out.

Mycroft nodded in agreement, "Trial and error is the foundations of our personalities. We are who we are because of our achievements and failures."

"I knew you'd make me feel better. You always do." Rosie admitted with a smile, "You're so wise."

"Wisdom comes with age and experience." Mycroft replied, getting to his feet and moving over to one of the bookshelves. He ran his hand over the spines of the books before he pulled one out and went back to sit down.

"What's that? Is it a photo album?" Rosie asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the burgundy book.

"Yes, it contains my youth." Mycroft replied with a slight smile, placing the book down on the coffee table between them, "Feel free to look. You're the first to see this, unless my brother has already taken a peek."

Rosie ran a hand over the old leather binder, "Why me?" she asked.

"We all want to be remembered, Rosie." Mycroft murmured, "I want you to remember me, not the old man I'm becoming."

"Okay." Rosie nodded a little, pulling the heavy book closer to her.

"I'm going to make a hot drink. Do you want your usual?" Mycroft asked, getting up slowly and moving towards the doorway.

"You know me so well, Uncle Myc." Rosie chuckled as she watched him go.

* * *

Rosie looked through the pages and pages of photographs slowly, smiling as she saw her uncle during his university years.

"Here you are. One hot chocolate with all the trimmings." Mycroft said as he entered the room, placing the mug down on the table carefully.

"Thank you." Rosie replied, not looking up from the photographs.

Mycroft sat back in his own chair and sipped his tea as he watched her. It was strange to finally show his book of photographs to another, it felt as if he were exposing his soul.

"Is that Sherlock?" Rosie laughed, pointing at one of the pictures.

Mycroft leaned forward and glanced over the picture she was pointing at, "Yes, that's him." he replied with a smile, "That was taken on my graduation, so Sherlock would have been 14."

"Wow. You all look so different." Rosie said, smiling when she spotted Mummy Holmes in the back of the photograph.

Mycroft chuckled softly, "Sherlock and I didn't used to be grey with wrinkles."

Rosie turned the page carefully, "Wow, look at you and Anthea!" she exclaimed.

"That was taken on the day I was given my own office." Mycroft explained, "Anthea had already been my PA for some time at that point and insisted that we celebrate the moment with a photograph."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be allowed to take photographs at MI6." Rosie admitted as she looked through pages and pages of photographs of Mycroft and Anthea at work.

"As long as they don't contain confidential information, they're not seen as a problem." Mycroft replied, "Anthea was quite the photographer at one point. She insisted I pose on many occasions."

"I bet you hated it." Rosie laughed.

"Yes, I did." Mycroft agreed, "But now I see the value in it. I can look back and remember the good times."

"How old is Anthea? She must be near retirement too, right?" Rosie asked.

"Anthea is the same age as Sherlock and John so she's still got a few years of work in her yet." Mycroft replied.

"Are you sad about retiring?" Rosie asked, closing the book once she reached the end of the photographs.

"Yes, very much so." Mycroft admitted, "But my mind is not what it once was."

"What will you do during retirement?" Rosie asked, "Will you travel? Or write a book, perhaps?"

"All valid suggestions, my dearest Rosamund." Mycroft replied with a nod, "But no, I hear that daytime television is rather good. I fully intend to immerse myself in Bargain Hunt* and Homes Under The Hammer**."

* * *

* Bargain Hunt is a long-running programme where contestants purchase things at antiques fairs and then try to make the biggest profit at auction. It's been broadcast on BBC One since 2000.

** Homes Under The Hammer is a long-running programme where people buy houses at auctions and then renovate them. It's been broadcast on BBC One since 2003.


	11. Chapter 11

Mycroft flicked on the kitchen light and visibly flinched as the group of people in his kitchen shouted 'Surprise!'.

"Good evening." Mycroft said with a nod, "What can I do for you all?"

Rosie rolled her eyes and approached him with a glass of champagne, "We're having a joint party." she said, handing him the glass.

"What are we celebrating?" Mycroft asked.

"Today was your last day at work so we're having a retirement party for you and we're also celebrating my university graduation." Rosie replied, clinking her glass with his.

"You graduated almost three months ago." Mycroft pointed out, leaning his umbrella against one of the kitchen chairs.

"Yes, and we haven't had a party to celebrate, hence the joint party." Rosie explained with a smile, watching him.

"I don't feel much like celebrating, Rosamund." Mycroft replied, putting the glass down on the kitchen counter and leaving the room.

"I'll talk to him." Anthea assured Rosie, squeezing the girl's arm as she walked past.

* * *

"You really know how to lower the mood at a party, Mycroft." Anthea said, leaning in the doorway of the study.

Mycroft was sat at the large desk, a glass of whiskey in front of him. He looked over at Anthea but didn't speak, unsure how to explain his actions.

Anthea sighed and entered the room, shutting the door behind her. She sat down in the chair opposite the desk and poured herself a drink from his decanter.

"I don't know how to feel. I've never been very good with sentiment." Mycroft admitted after a few moments of silence.

"Do you regret retiring?" Anthea asked.

"Yes and no." Mycroft replied vaguely.

"You don't know what to do with yourself now you're not the British Government, is that it?" Anthea asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mycroft picked up his glass and drank down some of the amber alcohol, giving Anthea her answer.

"Mycroft, I know this is difficult. It's going to be difficult for a long time, but it was the right time for you to go." Anthea said with a sigh, "You're a rich man with a good family, you've got nothing to worry about."

"I just gave everything up, Anthea. Everything that I worked for is gone now. All the power, all the influence, everything's gone." Mycroft murmured.

"You've devoted every waking moment to Queen and country for the past 40 years, Mycroft. It's about time that you had a rest." Anthea replied gently, "Now pull yourself together and come and have a drink with everyone."

With a chuckle and a mock salute, Mycroft downed his whiskey and got back to his feet. He came around the desk and linked their arms together gently.

"Come along, Mr Holmes." Anthea murmured, leading him back to the kitchen where their friends and family were waiting.

* * *

"You alright now, Mycroft?" John asked from a few feet away, a beer bottle in his hand.

"Yes, thank you. I just needed a moment to gather myself." Mycroft replied with a polite smile and a nod.

"Mycroft's back everyone! Hide the cake!" Sherlock called, teasing his brother with a smile.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "I doubt I'll manage the whole cake." he replied, picking up his glass.

"Cheers." Rosie said from his left, holding up her glass with a warm smile.

"Cheers, my dear Rosamund." Mycroft replied, clinking his glass with hers and taking a sip of the champagne, "Dom Perignon?"

"I didn't think Bollinger was fancy enough." Rosie explained with a smile.

"Good choice." Mycroft assured warmly, "Have I ever shown you the champagne section of the wine cellar?"

"No, I don't think you've ever shown me the wine cellar." Rosie admitted, "Do you have a large selection of champagne?"

"It's a modest collection of vintage champagne." Mycroft replied, "Would you like to come and look?"

"Yes, I would." Rosie agreed with a smile, "Are we going to get horrendously drunk on old alcohol?"

"Speak for yourself, Rosamund. I can hold my drink." Mycroft replied with a chuckle and a wink.

* * *

"I have been here before." Rosie said as she stood amongst the rows and rows of carefully stacked wine.

"Yes, I believe you were 5 or 6." Mycroft replied, "You were interested in history."

"You showed me a bottle of wine and it was really, really old..." Rosie said, thinking back as best she could.

Mycroft nodded and moved across the room, carefully lifting the lid of a sturdy wine box, "A red wine from the Tudor court." he said, looking down at the 500 year old bottle.

"Wow. How can that still exist?" Rosie asked, carefully running her fingers over the glass.

"Someone like me saved it from destruction and kept it safe, passing it down over the generations." Mycroft murmured, "Everything in this room is an antique."

"What other historical periods have you got wine from?" Rosie asked, stepping back so he could safely lock away the old bottle.

"I have French wine from the revolution and British wine from King Charles I's reign." Mycroft replied, "I also have a wine from every year of Her Majesty's reign."

"Every year?" Rosie repeated with a raised eyebrow, looking around the basement room.

"Yes, the last 30 bottles have been presented to me by Her Majesty herself." Mycroft replied with a smile, "She is very encouraging of my wine collection."

"Could you drink any of it?" Rosie asked curiously, "Would any of it be fit to drink?"

Mycroft considered her question for a moment before he answered, "Some of it would definitely be off by now, but if the cork was sealed with wax then it is likely that much of the wine would still be drinkable."

"That's crazy, isn't it?" Rosie murmured, "I understand that the value of the bottles means they can't be opened, but wouldn't it be amazing to sit and drink something that was made to be drunk hundreds of years before?"

"Follow me." Mycroft said, his eyes glistening a little in the half-light of the cellar. He got out a key from a pocket in his waistcoat and unlocked another door, flicking on the light. Inside were lots of bottles of champagne, kept carefully preserved in a chilled, glass case.

"You really are a collector, aren't you?" Rosie chuckled, leaning close to the glass to look at the labels on the bottles.

"Step back, my dear." Mycroft murmured, leaning over her to unlock the glass case.

Rosie stepped back and watched him remove a bottle from the case.

"This bottle is from Her Majesty's coronation." Mycroft said, "I have two. This one was given to me by my Uncle Rudy when I joined the civil service. It was the first bottle in my collection."

"Where did you get the other bottle from?" Rosie asked curiously.

"That one was given to me by the Queen for some work I did for her about 20 years ago." Mycroft explained, locking the case with one hand as he kept hold of the bottle.

"Shouldn't we be keeping that chilled? I can look at it through the cabinet, it's fine." Rosie said, carefully taking the bottle from him.

"No, come on. We're taking it upstairs." Mycroft replied. He let her go ahead and switched the lights off, locking all the doors as he went.

* * *

"Speech!" John declared, knocking a spoon against his beer bottle as he watched Mycroft prepare to speak.

"Thank you, John." Mycroft murmured, looking around at the friends and family in his kitchen.

Once the conversations had come to an end and everyone was looking in his direction, Mycroft prepared himself to speak. He'd made lots of speeches in his career but none had felt quite as emotionally charged as the speech he was about to make at his retirement party.

"Thank you for coming here tonight. I was not expecting the occasion to be marked by a party, so forgive me for my initial panic." he spoke with a slight smile, "I have served Her Majesty for 45 years. Had I not been forcibly removed from my post this afternoon by Anthea, I'm sure that I would have made it to 50 years."

"No one can force you to do anything, Mycroft." Anthea teased, smiling at the man who'd been her closest friend for over 30 years.

"45 years ago, almost to the day in fact, Uncle Rudy presented me with this bottle." Mycroft said, putting a hand on the neck of the bottle of champagne, "It's a bottle of champagne from Her Majesty's coronation and Uncle Rudy felt it would be a fitting gift to give to a 21 year old who'd just joined the civil service. I never intended to open it, but I feel this occasion is suitably momentous."

"You're going to open it?" Rosie gasped from beside him as he pushed the corkscrew into the cork on the bottle.

"I think it's time for me to share a drink with Her Majesty, don't you?" Mycroft replied with a wink, pulling the cork out of the bottle. He carefully poured out the champagne into his own glass and Rosie's before he placed the bottle back down on the counter.

"This is a joint party, so congratulations on graduating, Rosie." Mycroft said, handing her a glass of the priceless champagne.

"Congratulations on retiring, Uncle Myc." Rosie replied, taking the glass and chinking it against his.


End file.
